


Why Are We Hurting Each Other Like This?

by Malachite_Knightess



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Prisoner of War, Slow-ish burn, comfort won't be for a while, oops! all hurt.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malachite_Knightess/pseuds/Malachite_Knightess
Summary: After the siege of Arianrhod, Ingrid is captured and brought back to Garreg Mach as a prisoner of war. Dorothea tries to convince her to help them finish the fight, but Ingrid isn't having it. Meanwhile, Felix heads to battle again.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, implied Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. Betrayal on Two Fronts

**Author's Note:**

> I had a really awful and mean idea for Enemies to Lovers, and I also really want to explore a few character dynamics more. This will eventually end Soft, but not without a shit ton of angst. Yeah, folks, it's gonna hurt. Please let me know what you think, and kudos are always appreciated! Enjoy :)

The very first thing that Ingrid was aware of was the chill seeping into her veins.

She had grown up in Faerghus, so she was used to the cold, and being a pegasus knight, it didn’t bother her much anymore. She had flown high, high above the earth, felt her hands go numb inside her gauntlets, and dipped through fluffy, fattened clouds. The first time she had done that, she’d come out the other side soaked to the bone in unfallen rain, and when she returned to the ground, her fellow students had laughed at her. 

But that was five, hell, almost six years ago.   
  


Right now, Ingrid was lying on the floor of a cold, lonely cell, made from dark stone and thick iron rods. She took a sharp gasp as she shifted to sit up, sending a spike of hot pain through her ribs. Ugh, definitely broken. Carefully, she scooted backwards, ignoring the way that her armor, which had not been taken from her, scraped loudly against the stone floor. The sound made her head throb and spin, and she knew then that she definitely had a concussion.

Ingrid took a few deep breaths, trying to steady the nausea induced by her dizziness, and the pounding of her heart. What happened? Where was she? What was her condition? She recited the questions to herself softly, like a repetitive prayer to the goddess. She thought back to what she could remember before going unconscious. She had been defending Arianrhod with Felix, Rodrigue, and Gwendal. The Adrestian Army had sieged them, and the fight was vicious. She hadn’t had time to devote to thinking about Felix, but she remembered the brief sickness that flooded her when she’d seen the Adrestian Army break through the front lines. Shit, If she thinks about that any more, she’s gonna panic even harder. Deep breaths. 

She had been fighting a wyvern rider, Lúin thrumming in the palm of her hand. She had invoked the relic’s power, piercing him through the neck and sending him tumbling off of his mount, when her pegasus, Dolorosa, had suddenly let out a cry of pain. Ah, of course. An archer, probably. She had been thrown from Dolorosa, and briefly remembered twisting her head in the air to see she was headed for the massive staircase. Then, she impacted the ground, and knocked her head on the steps.   
  


She shivered a little, not because of the cold. Ingrid was lucky to be alive, even if she was stuck here. She slowly stood up, bracing her hand against the wall and pulling herself to her feet on one of the prison bars. She pushed away the throbbing pain in her head, and carefully began undoing the clasps of her armor. It was light, as pegasi weren’t as strong as wyverns, and in the air, agility and maneuverability was more important, anyways. But, it was still heavy enough right now to be annoying, especially in her condition. Each of the pieces fell to the ground with a clatter, but Ingrid couldn’t really bring herself to care. 

Her tunic was stained harshly red-brown with blood, caked and ugly in the way that blood looked when it was just starting to dry. She lifted her tunic, to see if there was an open wound, but saw a sickly pale-looking scar over where it hurt most, instead. Ah, so she had been healed. That didn’t change the fact that her ribs were definitely still fractured, but she supposed it could be worse. 

Finally, Ingrid looked at her surroundings. It was dark, the only source of light being a pair of torches all the way across the room, well past the boundaries of her cell. There seemed to be a heavy iron door at the end of the room, but it was chained and locked with an amount of security that was frankly, overkill. 

Ingrid huffed, turning her attention a bit closer. Her cell was a simple thing, with the only accessory being a large pile of hay, with a large cloth that smelled suspiciously like horses slung over it. Well. She _ had _ slept in stables before. This wasn’t…. Okay, it was actually pretty fucking miserable. At least she wasn’t being tortured or something. That Hubert guy still gave her the creeps.

Ingrid’s head snapped to attention at the sound of the chains on the door being rattled. After an anxious set of seconds, the door swung open, and Edelgard, the Emperor herself, stepped through it. Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sight of her. She felt the hope she had held in her heart bend and threaten to snap, like a twig beneath Edelgard’s boots. 

Edelgard gave a nod to the guard who had opened the door, and stepped into the room, flanked by Hubert, as expected, and strangely, Dorothea. Dorothea locked eyes with her, and the sadness in her verdant eyes made Ingrid’s throat feel tight. Fuck, she hadn’t seen Dorothea since the night of Edelgard’s first attack on Garreg Mach. She had thought that they had been so close, after Dorothea had helped her repel the slimy suitor that Ingrid’s father had foisted on her. She... She had-  
  
“Ingrid Brandl Galatea.” Edelgard’s voice, level and commanding, snapped her out of her thoughts. She briefly met Edelgard’s eyes, ferocity personified in a violet hue. The look she gave Ingrid was measured, as though it had been practiced hundreds of times over. The face of an Emperor, doing what she must, Ingrid supposed.  
  
“You have been given a chance. Your loyalty may still lie with the Kingdom, but that can change. Rhea has committed innumerable atrocities, and your country has sided with her. She is a monster, selfish and inhuman, who has manipulated humanity for centuries. The purpose of this war is to end her tyranny. To end the noble and crest system. To give merits based on worth instead of bloodline. As a woman who has worked all her life to become a knight, surely you understand the world I am going to create.”  
  
Ingrid didn’t speak. She had loyalty to the Kingdom, sure, but more than anything, she had loyalty to her friends. To Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe. She couldn’t deny that she understood what Edelgard was trying to do. Hell, she’d like to see it come true. But this wasn’t about that, it was about protecting the people she loved. That’s what was more important to her than anything. She didn’t answer, or bow her head, just glared directly at Edelgard, anger hot in her chest and throat.  
  
Edelgard sighed, turning on her heel.  
“Very well, then. You have made your choice, and will remain here, as a prisoner. I will not execute you, as we were classmates, all that time ago, and I still hold hope for you. However, know this.” Edelgard turned her head back to look at Ingrid, expression a steel bastion of determination.   


“We march on Fhirdiad in one week. We will not lose.” Ingrid’s heart threatened to snap in two, and Edelgard walked out of the room, with Hubert following after her. 

Dorothea, however, remained, a deep frown painting her features. Even in sadness, she was beautiful. The dour expression on her face made her look as though she had been illustrated by the most skilled of painters, to depict the very definition of sorrow. Her eyes shone with wetness, but she did not cry. Dorothea swallowed her tears, beckoning a guard forward with a hand. 

The guard brought her a tray, which had on it a wooden bowl, filled with a beef and vegetable stew. A small wooden spoon sat beside it. Dorothea took it from the guard, dismissing him with a mere look, and slid the tray beneath the gap in the bars.   
  
“Eat.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and when she was so close, Ingrid could see the way the war had impacted her plain as day on her face. Her eyes had shadows beneath them, subtly covered in makeup to not be so visible to the average passerby. Her expression was one of undeniable pain. She… she almost looked broken.   
  
Ingrid couldn’t bear to look at Dorothea any longer, and took the tray, busying herself with eating the meal she had been given. Dorothea simply watched her, a small, sad smile on her features. When Ingrid had finished, which was not very long after she had started, she set the bowl and spoon back on the tray and passed them back under the bars.   
  
“Thank you for the meal.” Ingrid spoke. She still couldn’t look directly at Dorothea, as though she was a sun too bright for her eyes to behold. Instead, she focused her eyes on the deep red of Dorothea’s dress. It was a little easier, even if the color made her think of blood. Dorothea nodded, taking the tray from her and setting it aside. She put a hand through the bars, tentatively touching Ingrid’s shoulder.  
  
Ingrid jerked away, as though Dorothea’s touch had burned her, and she moved back, out of her reach. The sensation had sent shocks down her arm, and the dam in Ingrid’s heart threatened to burst. She turned away, looking at the stones of her cell, the pile of hay in the corner, her ruined tunic. Anything but Dorothea.  
  
“Ingrid, I-”  
“Don’t.” Ingrid snapped. “Just- don’t. Leave me alone.”

There was a poignant moment of silence, where she could feel Dorothea’s gaze on her, as though she was searching her for an explanation. Maybe earlier, Dorothea would have pressed her a little more, determined to help Ingrid. She was stubborn like that, and it was one of the things Ingrid had liked about her. Now, though, Dorothea seemed to recede, like the tide being pulled back as it shifted with the moon.

  
“Okay.” Dorothea rasped. She stood up, Ingrid could see out of the corner of her eye, and began to leave. Her steps were shuffling, slow, as though she was giving Ingrid time to stop her. She stopped when she neared the door, and Ingrid could feel her gaze over her body yet again. She didn’t care. Not right now. Not when her friends were going to die in a week.  
  
The door shut, and as soon as it did, Ingrid began to cry.  
  


* * *

The next day, Dorothea didn’t come back. A guard that she didn’t know or care to know gave her the same meal from yesterday, and took it from her when she was finished. Ingrid spent the day curled in the corner of her cell, wondering if Felix was still alive, if he was in the same situation she was.

Maybe he was dead, too.

The day after that, Ingrid asked for a washbasin. If she was going to be miserable, she may as well be comfortable instead of filthy. When she got it, the hand that passed it through the bars of her cell was manicured, and scarred with the use of magic. Small white lines criss-crossed the palm, spreading out like the empty branches of a great tree. Ingrid knew who’s hand it was. She didn’t want to look at her, still.

“Thanks.” She rasped, taking the washbasin and the cloth on the side of it and turning towards the wall. She took off her tunic wordlessly, dipping the cloth in the water and wiping the blood and dirt from her skin. Ingrid’s ribs still stung when she moved too quickly, and her head still throbbed with pain, but it was getting better. She knew that. Maybe a part of her didn’t really care, but at this point, taking care of herself physically was the only thing keeping her sane. 

Ingrid didn’t hear Dorothea leave, so she knew she was still kneeling there, watching her. Five years ago, the thought of Dorothea seeing her shirtless would have stopped her in her tracks. She would have flushed from ear to ear, covering herself and urging Dorothea to leave. Now, she didn’t really care. She’d taken so many lives, she’d lost track, and now, she was going to lose her only friends. Fuck. Ingrid felt her throat grow tight again, and she stopped washing herself for a moment.   
  
“If you’re just going to sit there, answer me something.” Her own voice nearly surprised her, the way it was harsh and grating on her own ears. She’d never really liked her voice, anyways, but that was something to worry about later. She couldn’t put herself first right now.  
  
Ingrid didn’t wait for Dorothea to respond before she spoke again.

“Is Felix still alive?”

She heard Dorothea sigh with something like a mix of relief and annoyance.  
  
“Yes, he’s still alive. He’s agreed to join us for the last few battles. Mostly, I just think he wants to fight some more. That, and he missed the professor. You know how he is when it comes to them.” Ingrid nods. 

“I hate this, you know.” Dorothea says. Ingrid freezes, but doesn’t turn around. “All of our friends are fighting each other. I’ve had to kill people that I knew, people that I cared about. I’ve hurt and hurt and hurt, and I’ve gotten nothing for it so far, but my own survival.” She pauses, and Ingrid feels the hurt she feels simmering in her gut. Is she really playing the fucking guilt card right now? “But when I saw you, still alive, brought back by Edie and the professor, I felt so happy. I was just… glad that you were alive.”  
  
What the _fuck?_ How can she say that?  
  
“How can you say that?” Ingrid’s eyes are burning with tears as she speaks, and she turns her head to look at Dorothea. Her face is twisted into a frown, confused and hurt. But Ingrid’s hurt, too. She’s been hurt. It’s not fair that she’s the only one hurting right now. Her anger hits a boiling point and the words she says next leave her mouth bitter and acidic as she spits them at Dorothea.  


“You left me. You chose  _ them _ over me. You had the chance to- to ask me to come with you five  _ fucking  _ years ago! And you just! Left! Leave me alone, Dorothea. You had your chance, and I clearly wasn’t important enough for you to fucking take it.”   


Ingrid is sobbing and she can hardly hear over the rush of blood in her ears. The tears on her face are so hot, she swears they burn her skin, and she feels so  _ fucking _ sick right now. 

“Get out.” Ingrid says, and she turns her head away from Dorothea. She hears the songstress crying behind her, but it doesn’t matter. The vice grip over her heart, the ice in her veins, the way she can’t stop shaking, none of it matters anymore.

Dorothea leaves. As soon as she’s gone, Ingrid lets out a strangled cry, slamming her foot against the washbasin and sending it across the room, where it hits the bars with a loud  _ CLANG! _ Ingrid puts her head in her hands, still trembling, and closes in on herself. She shuts her eyes. She doesn’t want to be conscious anymore, to think anymore. Emotional exhaustion overtakes her, and she falls into rest, tears staining her skin like blots of ink strewn across parchment.

* * *

Elsewhere and later, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is preparing himself for battle. They’ve reached the Tailtean Plains, and the Kingdom army is about to intercept them. Felix twirls his sword in his hand, keeping himself limber. He paces like a big cat in a cage, boots crunching the gravel beneath him as he moves. He’s restless, as he always is before a fight. Not because he’s afraid of losing, but because he wants it to start already. He’s had enough waiting, for all it’s worth. 

The rain is annoying. It makes his feet a little less sure, his grip a little looser, and he hates it. Felix hates most things, or at least, he pretends he does. In all honesty, he was actually pretty damn anxious right now. He knew there was a good chance he’d see Dimitri out there, or worse, Sylvain. But he needed an excuse right now. Fighting was all he was good for, so fighting was what he was going to do. 

A horn sounded somewhere, the signal to move out, and Felix immediately took off, running east through the rain towards a flank. It wasn’t long before he ran into Kingdom soldiers, who he began cutting through efficiently and quickly. He carved a path forward, as though he, himself, was the weapon here. He overtook a swordmaster, slicing through his ribs, and heard the clattering of hooves against stone. Felix ducked to the left, just barely dodging a hit from a lance. When he turned to look at his opponent, his heart nearly stopped. Astride a horse, holding the Lance of Ruin, stupid, handsome, lazy smirk on his face, was Sylvain. 

"Hey, Felix. Remember when we were kids and made a promise about dying together?"

"I remember."

"Well, seems we're about to kill each other."

"Sorry, Sylvain. You'll die first."

Felix charged at Sylvain, and the usual ferocity in his amber eyes was gone. He eyes shimmered, filled with sadness and regret, but he didn't stop.

Sylvain’s smile dropped, and he snapped his horse’s reins. The beast drove him forward, and the pair swung at one another, weapons primed and ready to kill.

Felix’s would never make it to his target.


	2. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain listens. Ingrid breaks. They'll figure things out, one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments and kudos! i'm happy to know that yall are enjoying this as much as i am
> 
> cw for vomiting in this one! if that stuff bugs you, skip from 'She knows she would have been able to. She-' to after the line break just a bit further down.

Felix was getting cold, despite the heat coming from Sylvain. Raindrops trickled down his skin, drawing goosebumps where they traced. He coughed, and tasted blood, all vile copper on his tongue. Shit.

"Hey, Sylvain?" Felix turned his head, looking up at the redhead. Sylvain looked so, so tired. The sight made Felix's gut churn, but whatever. He didn't have time to be guilty right now.

"Yeah, Fe?" he croaked. Sylvain put on one of his stupid, trademark smiles, but there was no hiding the despair in his eyes. They looked almost empty.

"I'm sorry. For…" He weakly gestures, a vague wiggle of his fingers. "I guess, a lot of stuff. For being such an asshole all the time. For calling you names and stuff. Hitting you. All that." 

Sylvain shook his head.

"Nah, I deserved it. It's okay, bud. Don't strain yourself."

Felix coughed again as soon as Sylvain said that. He couldn't really feel much of anything anymore.

"Ingrid's gonna be pissed at me. Tell her I'm sorry, too." Sylvain weakly smiled at him, giving him a feather-light flick to the forehead.

"You're dying, and _that's_ what you're worried about? You're so thickheaded sometimes."

"Rich, coming from you." Felix smiled. Really, genuinely smiled. He didn't have much left in him, but he'd be damned if he died scowling. He'd spent enough time looking like a drowned cat.

"One more thing, Syl." He coughed, hard, felt blood and bile pool in his throat. He spit it onto the ground. Fuck, he couldn't chicken out now. No way. "Thanks. For sticking by me, and… caring about me." Felix closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life,

he stopped fighting.

The rain had drenched Sylvain’s clothes at this point. He was shivering, ice-cold, but it wasn’t important. He looked up from his place on the ground just in time to see Dimitri fall to Edelgard’s axe. Ah. That was that, then, he supposed. He looked down at Felix again, expression so serene, so different from what he was used to seeing. Stupid. Sylvain thinks he only saw the asshole smile genuinely a handful of times, and here he is now, looking more beautiful than he has any right to be. 

Sylvain took an unsteady breath, looking up at the grey veil of clouds that still wept for the blood spilled on the earth. Man, this sucks. At least nobody could tell he was crying, though.

Sylvain scoots a little closer, grabbing Felix’s sword. It was pretty, deadly, and refined, just like its master. The blade was sharpened perfectly, and kept in good condition. Felix was always careful about that. The guy probably needed a few more hobbies, but war took that from him. War took a lot from everybody, Sylvain supposed. 

Sylvain hefted Felix’s sword, sliding it home, right where it belonged, into its sheath at Felix’s hip. Then, he slid his arms beneath Felix, and hefted him up. Felix didn’t wear much armor, so he wasn’t all that heavy, but Sylvain’s muscles still whined at the prospect. Whatever. 

He stood all the way up, and started walking towards the Adrestian Emperor, to offer his apologies, and his allegiance. No point in resisting her anymore. 

It was time to go home.

* * *

Ingrid was so tired of this cell. It’d been a week since she’d yelled at Dorothea, and she’d not seen any familiar faces since then. Except for the guard, who’d been bringing her food in Dorothea’s place. She'd taken to counting how many times she could throw pebbles at the wall and catch them. Her best was 18 times in a row. She was very, very stir-crazy.

Ingrid threw the pebble in her hands at the wall, clicking her tongue as it bounced off an awkwardly placed stone in the wall and landing well out of her reach, past the cell bars. Great. Now she was even more bored. 

The rest of the day passed by in a haze, and by the time night fell, Ingrid was lost in her thoughts again. She lashed out at Dorothea, who she used to love. Why did she do that? Because she felt betrayed? Please. She knew full well that the odds were stacked against her from the beginning. Dorothea had bonded with her classmates very closely over the time they’d spent at the academy. She knew that she couldn’t have expected her to choose Ingrid over seven other people. The thing that hurt her was that she’d left without even saying goodbye. Not even a letter was sent to her. 

She’d felt abandoned. The one time she lets herself love someone, and she gets left without even a farewell note. That, and the fact that her stupid, stubborn friends were in danger of getting killed. She knew for certain Dimitri wouldn’t budge from where he stood, and even if he wanted to, he had a responsibility as the king. 

Felix, on the other hand, had already assented to being under Edelgard’s rule, and that surprised her more than anything. She’d grown up with him, and she knew him better than nearly anyone else. All his glares, all his insults, all his biting comments were just ways to hide from his emotions. It was a habit he picked up after Glenn died. Ingrid had helped him through it more than any of their other friends, and not just because she was supposed to be his fiancee, or whatever. She’d cared for Glenn, definitely, but not like that. 

Felix was the first person she told that to. In return, Felix had confided in her that he didn’t really have an interest in girls at all. Ingrid could get that, on some level. It wasn’t like she’d never been attracted to a man before, but girls were just… much more to her tastes.

In the following years, she’d kept a close eye on Felix, and had been able to see through the angry, prickly mask he put on. She’d noted how he had been the first person to follow Dimitri back to Faerghus, and saw how much harder he fought when it was for Dimitri’s sake. She knew Felix loved him, but that it’d take a long time for him to admit it. She guessed that was why he’d decided to help Adrestia, but that still didn’t explain him going to battle. Maybe he wanted to see Dimitri one last time? To get some closure and move on? ...No. He wasn’t that emotionally intelligent, sorry, Felix.

Ingrid raised her head at the sound of people yelling. Huh. They sounded kind of… jovial? Maybe the war was over, now. It’d been quite some time since the Adrestian Army set out on their final march. It was possible things had ended by now, she thought. She strained her ears, trying to catch even a couple words of what was being shouted, but it was impossible. From here, anyways. 

Her foot tapped against the stone, anxiously awaiting the news. Fuck, she should have just sucked it up and gone with them. Waiting here now was going to kill her.

She didn’t receive any word of what was going on all night, and sleep took her, eventually.

The next morning, she was awoken by the sound of the door to her cell opening. Not the door to the room itself, her actual prison cell. She blinked sleep from her eyes, blearily looking up in time to see a head of unkempt red hair fling itself at her, and then she was being hugged. The angle was awkward, and it kind of hurt her ribs, but she couldn’t help the joy that sprang to life in her chest.

“Ingrid, fuck, it’s so good to see you. You’re okay!” Sylvain leaned back from the hug, kneeling to be on Ingrid’s level. He had a dopey smile plastered on his face, and there was no mistaking the shadows under his eyes. He looked like hell, but he was here, and he was safe, and that was all that mattered. 

She leapt to her feet, and he stood up with her, and they shared a proper, full embrace. It’d only been what, two weeks since they’d seen each other? Still… after everything, it was just refreshing to see a familiar face. 

“What happened? Is… is it over?” Ingrid’s voice was hoarse, as she hadn’t spoken much in a few days, and she cleared her throat to speak without difficulty. “Is… Dimitri…?”  
  


Sylvain’s smile drops, and he nods, solemn. It’s weird to see him drop the ‘Funny and Flirty’ act, but it made her feel a little special that he was being genuine with her. 

“Yeah. Dima’s gone, now. I guess it’s for the best, though. He can rest easy now, with Glenn and Fe.”  
  


“Yeah…”

…

Wait.

No.

No. No. No, no, no, no, no! No! Fuck, fuck, that stupid asshole, did he really?  
  


Ingrid cursed, slamming her fist into the wall. It hurt like a bitch, and her knuckles immediately started bleeding, but she didn’t care.  
  


“Fuck, Felix, he really? Son of a bitch!”

He’d gone to the battlefield, knowing he would die. He wanted to die alongside Dimitri. What an asshole. 

“He felt a little cornered, I think. He didn’t want for any of this to happen, but he didn’t have a way out without abandoning his king. So… He went with Dima.”

Sylvain was crying, quiet and soft. Ingrid had only noticed because she spotted a tear fall to the ground. She took him in her arms, and hugged him tight. Sylvain’s arms just barely clung around her, like he had no will left in him. That was fine. She was strong for Felix when Glenn had left, and she’d be strong for Sylvain now. She gently stroked his hair, rubbing small circles into his back. She murmured quiet assurances, gentle little reminders. “I’m here, Sylvain. You’re here, too. We’ve still got that. We’ll be okay. They’re gone, but they’re resting. It’s gonna be okay, even if it hurts now. I know. I’m here.”

Sylvain wept into her shoulder, staining her tunic with tears and snot. She wondered how long he’d been holding it in. Tears fell from her face, too, but she just kept hanging onto her childhood friend, as though if she let him go, he’d disappear, too. They stayed like that for a while, just letting it all out.

  
  
  


Hours later, Edelgard stepped into the room with a quiet knock on the door. She looked a little mournful, oddly enough, now that it was all over. But still, she covered it up with her usual Emperor-ly mannerisms, commanding that everyone pay attention to her without even saying a word. She stepped forward, boots clicking against the stone, and unlocked the cell.

“I shouldn’t. But I don’t really care about shouldn’t anymore.” The Emperor steps aside, and lets the pair out. “I get the feeling we’ve had enough fighting each other for a lifetime. Just… don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be keeping an eye on you two.”  
  


Ingrid stepped forward first, leading the way out of her cell. God, she was sick of that place. Ugh, and of stew. She turned, waiting for Sylvain, and he followed her, back to his usual grinning facade. Her heart twisted a little at the sight of it, like a knife had been driven into her chest. She knew he was just putting on a brave face. But hell, so was she.

Some time later, Ingrid and Sylvain sat in the dining hall, sharing a meal together. Ingrid was nearly done with her foot, and Sylvain was just barely picking at his. Ingrid glanced at him, and they locked eyes for a moment, before Sylvain looked away, in that casual way he did when he was hiding something. Ingrid dropped her fork, sitting up and clearing her throat.  
  


“Alright, spit it out.”

“What?” Sylvain weakly feigned innocence. He took a sip of his drink to avoid talking more. His gold-brown eyes flitted from place to place, looking for something, anything to distract Ingrid. Wasn’t gonna work, bud.

  
“You want to say something, or maybe you don’t, but you’re supposed to. You can’t lie to me, Syl, I’ve known you since you were shorter than me.”

  
“Hey, that didn’t last for very long.”

“Off-topic. Spill it. What’s going on?”

“I- nothing, okay?”

“Sylvain.”

“Ingrid.”

  
  
“I am not playing these games-”

  
  
“Felix asked me to tell you he’s sorry.”

Ingrid paused her verbal assault, glancing into his eyes. They held her gaze, but trembled just a little bit when she blinked. He _was_ telling the truth, but it wasn’t all of it. She’d stop pressing him for now, but Ingrid swore to herself she’d pry answers out of him eventually.

“Oh… Thanks. For telling me.”  
  


“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Sylvain tapped his fork against his plate, making a rhythmic _clink, clink, clink_ . He repeated the pattern, and pushed the food away. He put his chin in his hands, looking at Ingrid. “So, what do we do now, then? I mean, visiting graves and stuff, once they’re all set up back in Fhirdiad, but what then? I don’t think Edelgard’s gonna trust us with our old territories.”   
  


Ingrid sighs, putting her head in her hands, and wishing that thinking about the future didn’t evoke thoughts of Dorothea.

“Well, there’s apparently one last party later tomorrow evening. Then… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a mercenary or something. That, or…” She looks Sylvain up and down. “What about you? I could come with you. I’m not keen on losing you, as well.”

“My, my, Ingrid, and here I thought you held no attraction for me whatsoever.”

“Sylvain, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  
  
“And yet, here we are, birds of a feather. You suggested it, my friend.”

  
  
“I hate you so much.”

  
  
“Do you?” He wiggled his eyebrows, or at least, tried to, and the lack of success made Ingrid laugh. She held a hand up to her face, closing her eyes and covering her mouth. 

“No, I don’t. But I _definitely_ don’t like you like that.” She was smiling again, and it felt… good. God, it was almost weird to say, but she did actually miss Sylvain. He was terrible, sure, but he was _her_ terrible friend.

  
  
“Not yet, anyways.” Sylvain winked. That, he was better at, but it still had no effect on Ingrid. 

“Not anymore, you mean.” Ingrid looked at him, eyes hooded in a look that said, ‘I’ve got you now, asshole.’

“Wait, you-”

  
  
“Kidding.”

“You suck, Ingrid.”

“You suck more.” Sylvain laughed at that, and he actually picked up his fork, stealing the last bite of Ingrid’s food, instead of his own, full, discarded plate. Ingrid scoffed at him, swatting at his arm playfully. After he chewed and swallowed, he spoke up. “Genuinely, though, I’d like to travel. I’ve seen a lot of Faerghus, but not much of anywhere else. Maybe go to Brigid, or Almyra. I hear the women there are-

“Sylvain, I love you, but you need to stop thinking with your dick for five whole seconds.”

“Fair. But I wasn’t kidding. I do wanna see more places. Meet more people. Y’know?”

Ingrid nodded, resting her cheek in her hand, elbow on the table. Speaking of people… Man, she really fucked things over with Dorothea, huh. She still felt hurt, obviously, but she wanted to patch things up. Or at least, try to. She closed her eyes, frowning and furrowing her eyebrows, the way she did when she was trying to think.  
  


“Uh-oh. I’d know that look anywhere.” Ingrid opened her eyes to see Sylvain grinning like a cat. He put the back of his hand over his forehead, closing his eyes dramatically and swooning. “Oh, goodness! I, Ingrid Galatea, made a mistake over a pretty girl, and now I think she hates me. This goes against all my knightly beliefs and things I hold dear! I simply must throw myself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness!”

Ingrid glared at him. Sylvain smiled back at her, giving her a knowing look.

“What? You could tell _I_ was hiding something, and I only gave you a little shit for it. This is only fair.”

“Alright, I take it back. I do hate you.”

“Hey!” Sylvain frowned, but the crinkles around his eyes were proof enough that he knew she wasn’t serious. He quickly returned to smiling, but then she saw his eyes widen a little bit as he glanced over her shoulder. 

“Is… now a bad time?” The soft, melodic voice sent chills down her spine. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Dorothea behind her. For a brief moment, she debated not turning around. Just ignoring her and spending the rest of her days lying to herself, that she didn’t regret hurting Dorothea the moment her anger had receded. But then, she’d thought of the way that Dorothea had come to see her as soon as she had been captured. How she’d come back, even after Ingrid freaked out on her. How she was here, now, still trying, still reaching out. Dorothea didn’t deserve that. Absolutely not. So, Ingrid turned around.

Dorothea looked a lot less tired than the last time Ingrid had seen her. From this distance, the shadows she’d spotted under her eyes were nearly nonexistent. Of course, her makeup was immaculate, anyways. She’d chosen a simpler outfit than the one she usually wore, one that called back to her academy days. Spring was just beginning to shift to summer, and she accommodated the coming heat with a simple, short shirt, tucked neatly into a knee-length skirt, beneath which she wore tights. Even such a simple outfit made her look beautiful. Ingrid felt a small smile come to her face at the thought. She met her eyes, openly and honestly, and wished then, that she was able to say so many things with just that one look. It didn’t work like that, though, unfortunately, so instead, she said,

“Not at all. Please, sit.”

Dorothea’s expression flashed for a moment, as though she hadn’t been expecting that. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, though, and remained standing.

“No, thank you, I’m actually on my way to the cathedral. But I saw you here, and I wanted to give you my condolences, about Felix. And Dimitri, too.” 

Ingrid felt her gut churn with that familiar frustration, almost against her will. She pushed it down.  
  


“I wasn’t at the plains, for the last battle. I only heard about Felix last night.” Dorothea said. That familiar, grim look crossed her features. 

In that moment, Ingrid wished for too many things at once. She wished Dorothea had never had to see war. That Ingrid would keep her safe from everything. At the same time, she wished their friends had never had to fight one another. That neither of them had stained their hands so badly. That Dimitri was still alive. That Felix was still alive. Fuck. Ingrid’s head began to spin, and she felt her throat clench as tears came to her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing she could force from her mouth before she jumped to her feet and ran. Ingrid ran, and ran, and ran, and she didn’t know where she was running. She bumped into someone. Didn’t matter. They yelled something at her, she couldn’t hear it over the sounds in her head. Over the voices of the people she’d killed, the people she’d hurt, the people who died because she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there for Felix. If she’d gone with him, she could have saved him. She knows she would have been able to. She-

Bile rose to accompany the tears on her face. Ingrid ducked behind a corner, reeling as her body ejected the food she’d just eaten with Sylvain. She was drenched in cold sweat, and her hands trembled as she wiped her mouth. Her head throbbed, with every beat of her heart, and she still felt sick. Why wasn’t she there for Felix? Why wasn’t she there? Because she was too busy being selfish and hiding herself away from everyone who cared about her. 

Ingrid gagged again, but nothing came from her mouth. She took shaky breaths, tears still streaming down her face, and stumbled to the only place she could think to go. 

* * *

  
  


Ingrid crouched in the corner of the stables, sobbing quietly. She didn’t deserve to be this hurt right now. That isn’t fair to Felix, or to Dimitri, or fuck, even to Dorothea. At least even Sylvain was there for Felix. She had just hid away, wrapped in her own stubborn bullshit, like the coward she was. She was pathetic. A knight stripped of her title and honor. Fuck, she really was worthless now, wasn’t she?

Ingrid stayed there long after she had stopped crying. She eventually took to filling the horse’s feed and water troughs, finding comfort in the familiarity of the routine. Ingrid would often come to the stables as a student when she was troubled, and just take care of the horses and pegasi. Being able to care for such gentle, reverent creatures filled her with a sense of purpose and clarity. It helped. She grabbed a treat from one of the tins hidden away in a cabinet, holding her hand out to one of the calmer mares. The mare obliged her, taking the tread from her hand, and Ingrid gently rubbed her behind her ears, combing her fingers through her mane. 

“You’re a sweet thing, aren't you?” She murmured, using her other hand to gently pet her side. The mare nudged her hand back onto her head, and the sheer neediness of it made Ingrid smile. “Alright, alright. I gotcha.” She petted the mare’s head a little more, and the sound of footsteps broke her out of her trance. 

She turned her head to see Sylvain, an easy smile plastered on his face. His hair was a little more mussed up than it was when she’d last seen him. 

“Should’ve known you’d be here. Monastery’s a big place, you know.” 

Ingrid hummed in response, still petting the mare. The horse tossed her head, shying Ingrid’s hand away. Too much, huh? Ingrid backed off, turning to face Sylvain.

“Sorry. For running out on you like that.” 

“Hey, no worries.” He shrugged, stepping forward, hands behind his head. “Well, okay. A few worries, but I get where you’re coming from. Wounds are still fresh, you know?” 

Ingrid nodded, a little solemnly. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms, like it could protect her from the way she felt right now. All it did was make her feel more closed off.

“Talk to me, Ingrid. What’s happening? Why’d you run off?”

“It’s… a lot of things.” Ingrid sighed, sitting down again. Sylvain walked over, sitting down beside her, arms resting on his knees. He looked at her expectantly, but there was an air of calm patience about him. As if he was saying, ‘Take your time.’ Ingrid raked a hand through her hair, nearly undoing the braids she usually wore. “I just feel so shitty. Felix went to battle alone. I was given the same offer, to help the Adrestians with the last battles. I refused, because I didn’t want to fight my friends. But I feel…” She chuckled, but there was no humor behind it. “I guess this is arrogant. I feel like I could have saved him if I was there for him, you know?”

Sylvain, to his credit, nods. He takes a deep breath, too, and looks out the window of the stables at the sky, painted an orange-gold as the sun just barely began to sink below the horizon. “I don’t think it would have changed anything. No offense.” Sylvain closed his eyes, in the way that he did when he knew he was out of options. “Felix threw himself at me, you know. He charged at me, but there was no intent to kill, there. He just looked… sad. I think… I think he wanted me to kill him.” Sylvain rubs the back of his head, sighing. “Not that I can claim to know what he was thinking. But I feel like… like he almost wanted to die. And if he did, then he wanted to die with someone who cared about him.”

Ingrid’s heart dropped. Here she was, being selfish, and Sylvain, he… God, she felt stupid.

“I bore that burden for him.” Sylvain looked down at his hands, and they were trembling. He fidgeted, playing with the hem of his pants, his hair, anything to keep his hands busy. As though he could physically distract himself from his emotion so he’d stop shaking.

Ingrid didn’t know what to say. She leaned into Sylvain, putting an arm around him. The gesture was familial, and Sylvain leaned into it.

“It’s gonna haunt me for the rest of my days, man. But… I’m happy. That I could do one last thing for him.” Sylvain was crying again. Dammit. He really needed to stop that. He lifted his shirt collar, wiping his face off and blinking the tears away.

“I think he was happy, too. And if not… he is now, right?” Ingrid smiled, sad and watery. “Wherever he is… he’s not alone. He’s got Glenn, and Dima, and hell, even Rodrigue. Not that he was the best, but…

Sylvain laughed weakly, shaking his head. 

“I know, right? The guy babied Dimitri, but it’s like, dude, your _actual_ son is right there. He’s a dick, sure, but he’s your only family left.”

“I think being a dick ran in the family. Remember that time Glenn pushed Felix into a lake because he said ‘You sound just like dad right now’?”

Ingrid and Sylvain shared another fit of laughter. After a few more minutes like that, recounting old jokes and stories, they parted, saying temporary goodbyes and heading out to their respective quarters. 

Healing would take time, Ingrid thought to herself. But she wasn’t alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry there wasn't too much dorothea in this one! we'll get to her and ingrid, but right now, i wanted to focus on the way ingrid and sylvain process their grief.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! have a lovely day!


	3. Party and Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid and Sylvain attend a party. Things get out of hand. Afterwards, they receive a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all again for all the support!!! cw in this one for some very minor alcohol use! enjoy ;)

Ingrid hated parties. She stood in her room, idly picking through what clothes she had left, trying to pick _something_ that wouldn’t make her look like a total freak. Dress. Ew, no. The outfit she planned to wear when she was officially knighted. Hmm… no, too formal. 

Ingrid dug through her closet, flitting past shirts, tunics, jackets, and coming up with nothing. At least, until the very last thing in there. It was a simple, white button-up, courtesy of Sylvain. It was similar to the one he used to wear, in his academy days, but in her size. She vaguely remembered that he had gotten it for her as a gift to wear to the ball, after the White Heron Cup, but she’d never gotten a chance to wear it, since… well, the war happened.

She took it out, quickly throwing it on and buttoning it all the way up. That… felt a little stuffy, so she undid the top button, just enough to show the very top of her collarbone. Okay. She could work with this. She put on a pair of black trousers, and some boots with a very slight heel. Yet again, she checked herself in the mirror. Ingrid wasn’t exactly… satisfied? With how she looked. But it would have to do. She was going to be late. Ingrid stepped out of her room, shutting the door behind her, and heading for the party.  
  


The party itself was a bit more rowdy than Ingrid had expected it. Just about all of the Black Eagles, and the Ashen Wolves were here, with the addition of Lysithea and Leonie. Of course, there were dozens of people she didn’t know as well, but it was nice to see some familiar faces.

Speaking of familiar faces, she spotted Sylvain near a pillar, chatting up some pretty face she didn’t recognize. Ingrid thought about going to stop him from doing anything too stupid, but supposed it was just better to let him have his fun. He’d grown up a little, and talked a big game, but didn’t go out of his way to break any hearts. He was just having fun tonight. That’s all. Though, Ingrid nearly did spit out her drink when she realized the person Sylvain was speaking to was Yuri. Okay, now _that_ , she didn’t expect. 

About forty-five minutes later, Ingrid was seated at a table, idly throwing appetizers into her mouth while nursing a glass of wine. She felt a little woozy, but it _was_ a party, right? Everyone always said she needed to ‘Let loose a little, Ingrid!’ ‘Have some fun, Ingrid!’ ‘Stop being such a stick in the mud, Ingrid!’ Goddess, what a joke. 

She took another sip of her wine, looking around the room. Eventually she spotted Dorothea, and she immediately wished she hadn’t. Dorothea was utterly gorgeous. Her hair was done up, in an elaborate bun at the back of her head that allowed her to show off her neck, which was adorned with a silver necklace that held a bright green stone. The color only brought out her eyes more. The dress she wore was a deep, lovely red. It was slitted down one thigh, where she wore a pair of just barely not opaque tights. A pair of simple, black, heeled ankle boots completed the outfit, and brought Dorothea up a couple inches, which somehow made her look even lovelier. Ingrid couldn’t stop staring, and was beginning to wonder if the flush across her cheeks was because of the wine, or because of Dorothea. 

Eventually, Ingrid brought herself to look away, though she couldn’t help stealing glances at her for the remainder of the evening. 

Just as the night was beginning to grow old, and the first people had begun leaving the party, Ingrid considered doing the same when she heard a familiar voice cry out. Her head whipped around to Dorothea, and she saw her speaking fervently to a man that appeared to be attempting to escort her from the party. Dorothea looked uncomfortable, but she’d literally fought in a war. She could handle this. Obviously. 

Ingrid saw the man reach for Dorothea’s wrist, and jealousy boiled in her throat like lava. No. He didn’t get to even try to touch her like that. Dorothea slapped his hand away, and an argument began to break out between them. Rage came to a head, deep in her gut, and Ingrid stood up from her seat so fast that the chair she sat on tipped dangerously backwards and nearly fell. Ingrid marched over to the pair, and just as the man tried to reach for Dorothea, Ingrid caught his wrist. Her grip was probably a little tighter than it needed to be, but she didn’t care.

“Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?” Ingrid’s face was twisted into a grimace, and she pushed him away roughly.

“Who the hell even are you? This doesn’t concern you.” The man sneered at her, and the sight made Ingrid’s chest catch flame with how angry she was. She felt like she was going to combust right then and there, as the man stepped forward again.

“I said, you’re making her uncomfortable. Leave her alone, asshole.”

“Ingrid, please…” Dorothea spoke. Her voice was one of peacemaking, it was clear she didn’t want a fight to break out. Ingrid glared at the man, daring him to try something.

“Clearly, you’ve got too much drink in you. Let me help with that.” The man swung at her, low, aiming for her gut. Ingrid wasn’t particularly skilled in brawling, and she was still a little tipsy, but she _was_ a trained soldier. She twisted, not quite quick enough, and felt the man’s fist make contact with her ribs. She wheezed at the resurgence of pain from being struck where they had been fractured recently, but she pushed through it, using her lower height as an advantage and aiming a punch at the man’s jaw. It made contact, and it hurt like hell. Ingrid barely noticed the way her hand throbbed, and pushed her advantage, swinging at the man again.

It turned into an all-out brawl, punches, kicks, elbows, and other unarmed strikes being thrown. Ingrid was too infuriated to give in, though, and after a well placed hit to the man’s gut, he keeled over and fell to the ground.

“Fuck you.” She spat the words at him, as though the force of her voice could drive him from her sight. Fuck, her everything hurt. Especially her hand- oh. Her knuckles were bleeding. She’d reopened where she’d punched the wall yesterday, and was dripping blood onto the floor.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her wrist. She whirled, only to see Dorothea, a stern expression on her face. Oh. Shit. 

“Come with me.” Dorothea said, and dragged her by the wrist away from the party, her boots clicking against the ground with the purpose of her strides. She led her into an abandoned corridor, far enough away that nobody would hear them.  
  


“Are you insane?” Dorothea said. Her expression was one of frustration, and it made Ingrid feel like stones were in her stomach. “Obviously he was making me uncomfortable, yeah, but you didn’t need to fight him! Look at yourself, Ingrid. You’re a mess.”

As though Ingrid was willed to by Dorothea’s words, she looked down at her hands. Her knuckles were an angry red, and they throbbed with pain. The hand she had punched the wall with still bled, causing that hand to be smeared with red. Her ribs still hurt, and she’d taken a hit to the side of her face that she was certain was already bruising.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted. Ingrid bowed her head in shame, unable to look at Dorothea. Now she’d done it. She’d lashed out and yelled at her before, and now here she was, butting in where she wasn’t needed. Surely Dorothea hated her. She was so fucking selfish. Her head was spinning again. “For yelling at you, too. You didn’t deserve that.” Ingrid’s eyes burned as they threatened to break with tears again. 

A sensation that felt ticklish and itchy at the same time broke Ingrid from her daze. She recognized the feeling of white magic being used on her as Dorothea healed the places she had been hurt. Skin wove itself back together, and bruising lessened. Her hands didn’t hurt so much anymore. Dorothea gently took Ingrid’s hand in hers, pouring some water on it from a waterskin she still kept on her. She wiped the blood off of Ingrid’s hand almost reverently. Her hands were so warm, and gentle, and Ingrid couldn’t even think. All she could do was watch the woman in front of her tend to her injuries. When Dorothea was done, she looked up at Ingrid, and in that moment, Ingrid’s heart stopped in her chest. Her eyes were beautiful, shimmering green, and they shone with worry. Worry for her. There was nothing more Ingrid wanted to do in that moment than lean in and kiss that worry away. She wanted to hold Dorothea in her arms, run her fingers through her hair, and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that she was here no matter what, that she loved her. Ingrid _loved_ her.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself for my sake. I’ve had enough of seeing the people I care about get hurt.”

Oh.

Dorothea cares about her.

Ingrid is speechless.

“I’m not saying what you’ve said and done was okay. But your apology is important to me.” Dorothea finishes her thought, and it leaves tension in the air, thick and watery. It makes Ingrid want to dispel it, somehow. She thinks again about kissing Dorothea, but she knows that she would be overstepping. 

“Are you leaving soon?” She blurts. She wants a chance to make things right. To fix this. To show Dorothea that she could be better, that she _would_ be better.

  
“In a week, I’ll be headed to Enbarr. Mittelfrank needs their best songstress, and I want to go back to performing.” She smiles. “I’ve got some things to wrap up first, though, so I’ll be staying here until then.”

Ingrid nods, and she can't help the smile that spreads across her cheeks. A week! She had time. And even then, she would know where Dorothea was after that.

“Have tea with me sometime?”

“I’d like that.” Dorothea squeezes her hand, as if she could imprint the feelings of her fingertips on Ingrid’s skin forever. Ingrid wouldn’t mind. Dorothea slowly lets go of her hand, and begins walking away. “But I really must get back to the celebrations. Have a good night, dear.”

“Y-yes, you have a lovely evening as well.” An all-too familiar flush finds her cheeks, and she can’t help watching Dorothea, even as she walks out of Ingrid’s field of view.

Ingrid stays there for a moment, reflecting on the events of the night. Things could have gone, so, so much worse. Instead, she now had a chance to give Dorothea her heart, a chance to make things right again. 

She leaves the corridor, and begins the quiet walk back to her quarters. It was getting late. When she rounds the corner, however, she nearly walks into Sylvain. He’s a bit disheveled, but he clears his throat and adjusts his collar before speaking.  
  
“Ingrid! Hey, everything alright? I saw the fight. And I saw Dorothea walk off with you. When she came back and you didn’t, I thought maybe things didn’t go so great.” He puts a hand to the back of his head, scratching idly at the hair on the nape of his neck. “You probably don’t want my advice, but-”

“Sylvain, everything’s fine.” Ingrid says. She fidgets a little with one of the buttons on her shirt. “Well, all things considered, anyways.” 

“Oh, really?” A cheeky grin spreads across Sylvain’s lips. “My, Ingrid, who knew you were such a charmer? Maybe you had been listening to my advice from way back when.”

“Ew, no. Shut up.” Ingrid lightly slaps his arm, and continues the walk back to her room. “Go back to enjoying the party. Just don’t make a fool of yourself while I’m not there, got it? I won’t clean up any more of your messes.”

“You got it, boss.” Sylvain runs off back to the party, and she sees him being interrogated by Yuri as soon as he makes it back within earshot. Sylvain says something, and Ingrid spots Yuri crack a smile and walk with him to some corner of the room, drink in hand. Good for them.

When she makes it back to her room, Ingrid only has the energy to kick her boots off and land face-down on her bed before letting sleep take her.

* * *

Early next morning, Ingrid wakes to the sound of knocking on her door. On instinct, she jumps up from her bed, heart pounding, and fumbles for something, anything to protect herself with. Her hands come up empty, and as she’s looking around the room, she hears an unmistakably brooding voice.

“Her Majesty, Lady Edelgard, requests an audience with you in the strategy room in two chimes of the clock. Be present, or I will be forced to seek you out myself.” Hubert’s tone is colder than Faerghus winters, and Ingrid gulps, suddenly filled with anxiety. What did she want? Did she hear about the fight last evening? Oh, no. She was going to be thrown in jail again, wasn’t she? 

Ingrid puts on her most formal outfit for the occasion, a silk blouse beneath a neat blue-colored jacket. She even put on a pair of gloves, which was out of character for her. She feels stuffy in the outfit, and she paces outside of the closed doors of the strategy room anxiously. Was she supposed to knock? She _was_ a little early. 

“Damn, Ingrid, you went all out, huh?” Sylvain, dressed in simple day clothes, strides up to Ingrid, hands in his pockets. Oh shit, she was overdressed. Wait, why was she assuming Sylvain was the baseline? “You make me wonder if I should have dressed up a little. I mean, I’m sure it’s not _that_ big of a deal-”

The doors to the strategy room swung open, and Hubert stood there, glaring at the pair, or perhaps just regarding them regularly. It was hard to tell with him. He nods at them, gesturing for them to enter. Edelgard stands at the opposite end of the room, wearing a more casual side ponytail and a much less grandiose crown than she usually wore. A map is in front of her, marked with various notations. She gives them a smile as they enter, gesturing at the chairs on either side of the map.

“Please, sit.”

Ingrid and Sylvain take their places, and as they do, Edelgard points at Gautier territory, and then Galatea territory. Oh. That’s what this is about. Ingrid immediately feels more relaxed, albeit not completely so.

“I want to offer you the chance to overlook your old territories. Sylvain, you in particular have been cooperative since the battle of Tailtean Plains, and I want to reward you both with a chance to go back to your old lives, without any of the constraints. I offer you this not because of your crests or your standings, but because of your experiences. You each know the most about your respective territories, and are thus the most suited for the roles. Of course, I would require you to swear fealty to me. But the noble system and the crest system are both in the process of being abolished, now that Fódlan has been united. You would work purely on merit, and be paid and recognized accordingly.”

Sylvain holds his hands up in surrender, a smile on his face.

“Woah, woah, seriously? You don’t need to spend any more breath convincing me. I didn’t think you’d trust us with our old territories, considering. But now that the offer’s on the table, I’ll take it. We’ve fought with Sreng for too long, and I’ve got the know-how to make things better for our relations. I’m in.”

Edelgard beams at him, nodding. She circles Gautier on the map, marking something down in the margins, and then turns to Ingrid.

“And you? Would you like to rule Galatea?”

To… _rule_ over Galatea? To take over the territory in place of her father? She… She never thought it would be even remotely possible. Ingrid bowed her head in thought. She’d always resigned herself to disappointing him and running away to serve as a knight elsewhere. She could bring peace to the villages she’d grown so familiar with. She could enable the local agriculture there, turn a profit to ensure comfort for everyone in the territory. She…

Her heart ached, for a moment. She wanted to go home, but… There was one other home she had to choose between, too.

“Give me a week.” She rasped. She looked up at Edelgard, who regarded her with a curious expression. “Can you give me a week?”

“I thought I’d have your immediate agreement, but certainly. I will expect your answer in a week, then. Simply seek me out here, I have some time before I need to return to Enbarr. There are matters that need to be finished.” She clears her throat, standing from the map. “Thank you both for your time, and for your agreement, Sylvain. I shall arrange for a letter to be sent to you with details. Please, enjoy the rest of your days.” She snapped her fingers, and Hubert seemed to materialize out of the shadows, and began muttering in her ear.

Sylvain and Ingrid both stood from their chairs, leaving the chamber and shutting the doors behind them. Sylvain whistled in appreciation.

“Playing the long game, huh? What’s got you so hesitant, Ingrid?” 

Ingrid knew exactly what had her so hesitant. She began walking away, fussing with the hem of her shirt. 

She needed to find Dorothea.


	4. Tea and Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea has tea with Ferdinand, and finds out a secret. Ingrid asks questions. Dorothea leaves Ingrid speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooh, baby. this chapter is nearly a third of my entire fic now, which is why it took so long!!!! i'm super excited to post this though, so i hope you enjoy!!!

“Really, Dorothea, I am not quite sure what game you think you are playing!”

Dorothea sighed, taking a sip of the tea that Ferdinand had prepared. Ah, he always was talented when preparing tea. It was steeped just properly, enough to bring out the flavor of the leaves without overwhelming the tongue. Dorothea didn’t even need to add any sugar. It was lovely, if a little bit hot.

“Ferdie, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. The tea is lovely, by the way.” Ferdinand huffed a little, crossing his arms and tossing his long, ginger hair as he moved. 

“Do not think to play the fool here. I am talking about the way you are treating Ingrid! She hurt you, very obviously, and even made an embarrassment of you at a public celebration. Yet, you insist on giving her a chance to woo you like this? I understand you care deeply for her, but you are letting her off a little too easy, don’t you think?” Dorothea glared at him, but there was no malice behind the gaze.

“Oh, like you have any room to talk. I’ve had to watch you fawn over Hubie and Bernie for more than _five years,_ Ferdie.” She tossed her hair over her shoulders, doing her very best impression of Ferdinand. Which, for all her talent as a songstress, was not very good. “‘Oh, Dorothea, Hubert gifted me the most lovely tea blend. Oh, he is so kind beneath that dark exterior. Oh, I long to court him properly, Dorothea. Dorothea! Bernadetta is just the sweetest girl. Oh, how she has grown from the time we were students. Oh, how I wish she and Hubert would-’”

“Okay, okay! That is quite enough!” Ferdinand’s flush was nearly the color of his crimson doublet, and he anxiously twirled a lock of his hair around his finger. His hand gently brushed over his chest pocket, as though he was checking to ensure something was still inside it. Dorothea didn’t miss the motion, but she figured she’d teased him enough.

“Yes, I am going a little easy on her. But it’s necessary to remember that she’s grieving the death of two of her closest friends. I told her directly that her actions weren’t okay, but part of the reason she’s acting like that is grief. I healed her because she recognized she did something wrong and apologized,”

“You also nearly kissed her in the hallway.” Ferdinand muttered. Okay, maybe she _should_ have teased him.

“What’s in your pocket? You keep checking if something’s still inside of it. Almost like…” Dorothea’s eyes lit, and she slapped a hand on the table, mouth agape. Ferdinand nearly spit out his tea. “No! Ferdinand, you aren’t going to prop-”

“Dorothea! I must insist you keep your voice down!” Poor Ferdinand looked as though he was about to faint. He fanned his face idly with one hand, which yet again, was the color of a blooming rose. “You are not exactly wrong, but circumstances are a little different, with there being three of us.”

“Ferdie!!! Oh, you’re going to be so wonderful together!” Dorothea clapped her hands quietly, nearly bouncing in her chair in giddy joy. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can I see the rings?” 

Ferdinand shook his head furiously, and put his head into his hands. It seemed Dorothea had bullied him enough. She did feel very happy for him, though.

“If you need any help…”

“I can assure you that I will _not_.” His voice was muffled by his hands, and Dorothea couldn’t help giggling at him a little bit.

The sound of quick footsteps across the stone broke Dorothea out of her laugh. She hummed a little in curiosity, looking towards the source of them as they grew louder. Ferdinand lifted his head as well, returning to proper posture. After a few moments, Ingrid rounded a corner, in, frankly, the most dressed up Dorothea had ever seen her. Her heart did a little flip in her chest at the sight of her. The blue of the jacket contrasted against her hair color in an alluring way, and it fit on her shoulders nicely. Dorothea could spot the outline of her arms from here. Dorothea’s breath caught in her throat a little bit, but she managed to regain her composure as Ingrid spotted her and began walking over. Her breathing was just a little labored, as though she had been searching for her fervently. Dorothea waved at her.

“Ingrid, is everything all right?” Ingrid nodded, her short hair swaying with the motion of it. She caught her breath a little before speaking, fumbling over her words.

“I- yes. Thank you for asking. Are-” She began fidgeting with the lapels of her coat. With the motion, Dorothea’s eyes caught that she was wearing gloves, similar to the white silk that Edelgard wore as a student. _‘My, Ingrid, how formal,’_ she thought to herself. Ingrid started her sentence again.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight?” Her face was flushed a light pink, and her lips were twisted in nervousness. It made Dorothea remember the girl she’d grown fond of all those years ago, the girl who panicked and gave her a _ring_ as a show of thanks. It had been so cute, she couldn’t help herself.

“No.” Ingrid deflated, and Dorothea immediately felt awful. Ferdinand gave her a look of reproach. Dorothea let herself smile, hoping it would catch Ingrid’s attention. Come, now, she wasn’t _that_ cruel. “However, I am free tomorrow evening. I wouldn’t mind spending time with you then.”

It was as though someone had cast Recover on Ingrid. She perked up, beaming at Dorothea. 

“Absolutely! Meet you at the gates at the fifth bell?” She spoke the words so fast they almost blended together. Dorothea nodded at her, taking a small sip of her tea.

“I’ll see you then, dear.”

Ingrid gave a slight bow, and Dorothea waved goodbye. As soon as she was around the corner, Ferdinand spoke.

“Really, now. You ought to just declare your love for her and get it over with.” Dorothea rolled her eyes and lightly kicked Ferdinand in the shin. She would love Ingrid however she pleased, and that pompous boy would just have to deal with it.

“So. Back to Hubie and Bernie. When are you planning to…”

* * *

  
  


This was, quite possibly, Ingrid’s worst idea yet. Granted, she was desperate, but she didn’t think she was this desperate. She sighed, and raised her hand to knock on Sylvain’s door, but it opened before she could finish knocking.

Yuri stood there, his lavender hair swaying as he tilted his head. His eyes widened very slightly, lacking their usual makeup. He’s dressed down more than he usually is, a simple pair of trousers beneath a silken shirt that looks just a touch too big for him. 

“Ah. Ingrid, I assume you’re here for Sylvain?” She hears a small crash behind Yuri, and a few muttered curses. Yuri smiles, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him. He leans against a pillar, crossing his arms. “Do forgive me for prying, but I can only assume you’re looking for advice to help with the whole… Dorothea situation?

  
  
“How do you know about-”

“I have eyes, and I was at the party last evening. Frankly, you made a bit of a fool of yourself, though one does have to admire your determination. Personally, I think you’re lucky enough to even have a chance at talking to her. You’ve got to show her your best sides. Remind her why she likes you in the first place. Prove your devotion to her. ‘Thea’s had enough fighting for one lifetime, so rely on other merits. Make her feel special. Got it?”

  
Ingrid wished she had a notebook on her.

“Oh, and one more thing? If you hurt Dorothea again, I will personally make you regret it.” Yuri gives her a far too bright smile for the grim thing he just said, and begins walking off. He turns to give one last wave as he walks. “Good luck, Ingrid.” And then he slinks around the corner, and he’s gone.

Ingrid fidgets with the cuff of her jacket. Jeez, it’s not like she was _planning_ on hurting Dorothea again. Obviously not. But it was still kind of terrifying when she remembered she was technically a prisoner of war just a few days ago.   
  


The door swings open with an extremely disheveled Sylvain behind it. His hair is so messy, it looks more like it did when he was younger, and the shirt he’s wearing is wrinkled in about five or six different spots. 

“Yo. Ingrid. What’s up? Need something? Come on in, bud. Or, you know what, can we go to your room instead? That sounds better.”

Ingrid sighs. This really _was_ her worst idea so far. At least Yuri had given her some decent advice. Ingrid leads the way to her room, gesturing for Sylvain to take a seat when they make it there. He takes the chair from her desk, sitting on it backwards with his arms across the top of the backing. Ingrid sits on her bed and groans.   
  


“Okay, so I’m already regretting asking before I’ve even spoken, but I need help. I have a dinner date with Dorothea tomorrow night, and I need to show her that I’m worth the trouble. And an outfit. Shit, I need an outfit. I’m planning on that little place down in the village, a few miles east of here, I’m taking her by pegasus, and I think there’s a festival going on because of the whole war ending, so that’s good too, and I ne-”

“Woah, woah, slow down, there, cavalier. Look, honest to the Goddess, I’m not the guy you should have gone to for this. Still, though, I’ll tell you what I can. Dorothea’s used to being wanted. She’s like me in that she knows she’s wanted, and she uses it to her advantage. Or, maybe she’s just used to it. Dunno. Anyways, just do something to differentiate yourself from the tons of other suitors she’s put up with. Play it cool, play it sweet, play hard to get… Actually, not that last one. Just show her your best.”

“Yuri worded it better.” Ingrid mutters. She shakes her head a little. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Now as for the outfit… come with me. We’ve got some shopping to do, my friend.” Sylvain takes her by the hand, lifting her from her place on the bed, and leading her off in the direction of the marketplace. “Now, let’s talk color. A green is nice because it complements your eyes, but a blue would contrast better with your hair. We’ll go for a darker shade, because you don’t want to stand out too much… And there’s also the question of accents…”  
  


Goddess, today was going to be a long day.  
  


* * *

Oh, how she was nervous. Ingrid paced back and forth in front of the gate. She ran her hand across the flank of the pegasus she’d borrowed from the stables, petting him gently to attempt to soothe her own worries. 

The shopping day had been… exhausting, but even Ingrid was satisfied with the way she looked. She’d gotten herself a nice, dark-colored blouse that she’d buttoned all the way up to her neck, tied with a ribbon the same color as her eyes. She wore a white waistcoat, fitted to accentuate the way her shoulders looked. She wore a pair of neat, clean black trousers, paired with more formal shoes than she’d ever worn in her entire life. Frankly, she felt she looked like a gentleman. It was… nice. Right, even. Maybe not her best outfit for pegasus riding, but she would ride smoothly, regardless. The sun was only just beginning to set, edging onto the horizon.

The fifth bell rang out. The chime caused Ingrid to perk up, tilting her head to the direction of the sound. It felt so… nostalgic. It reminded her of being in classes, joking around with the Blue Lions and telling off Felix and Sylvain whenever they’d fight. Ingrid let out a little sigh, reminiscing on good memories. It did make her miss Felix and Dimitri a little, but it was… nice.

“Hey, you.” Ingrid turned to the sound of Dorothea’s voice, and in an instant, she was breathless. Dorothea wore a smooth, emerald green dress that was embroidered with floral patterns. It had long, form-fitting sleeves and a modest neckline, and even that tiny peek of Dorothea’s collarbone was enough to make Ingrid’s face heat up. The skirt of the dress ended at her knees, a pair of dark, opaque tights outlining her legs. Finally, she wore a pair of heeled shoes, allowing her to stand even taller than she usually did. She was beautiful.

“You’re beautiful.” The words left Ingrid’s lips like they were meant to, and she let herself smile at Dorothea, holding her hand out for Dorothea to take. “Shall we? I promise It’ll be a smooth ride. I brought my most comfortable saddle. You won’t even have to change.”

Dorothea glanced from Ingrid to the pegasus, and let out what was almost certainly a sigh of endearment. Or at least, she hoped it was. Dorothea allowed Ingrid to help her up atop the pegasus, and Ingrid sat behind her, her chest pressing up against Dorothea’s back. She grabbed the reins and lightly whipped them, and the pegasus took off. 

Ingrid felt much more relaxed as soon as they were into the air. The land was light in beautiful, orange-yellow light, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Seeing the rolling hills and thick forests near Garreg Mach from the air always made her breathless. It was beautiful. Dorothea had a death grip on Ingrid’s leg, and Ingrid could tell she was having a bit of a hard time. 

“You’re okay, ‘Thea. I’ve got you.” She cooed into her ear, wrapping one arm around her midsection to keep her steady. “Don’t look down so much, look out across the horizon. Isn’t it pretty?” Dorothea seemed to be a little less tense as Ingrid spoke. To her credit, she seemed to listen to Ingrid, looking at the line of mountains that ran across what used to be the border between Leicester and Faerghus, at the Airmid river that snakes along as far as they could see, at the occasional village or town they’d pass over. 

“It _is_ pretty.” Dorothea breathed, and it was only through some sort of luck that Ingrid even heard her. They stayed like that for the rest of the flight, which was only about a half an hour. When they descended, Ingrid jumped off the pegasus first, holding her hand out to help Dorothea down. Like a gentleman. Obviously. Dorothea smiled at her, taking her hand and dismounting easily with Ingrid’s help. She set a stake into the ground, making sure it was secure before tying a rope from it to the pegasus, being sure he had access to food and water while they were gone. 

Ingrid led the way to the entrance of the village, which was open and welcoming. Dorothea seemed awestruck at the celebration taking place there. Decorations were strung up all across town, celebrations of the end of the war more than the fact that Adrestia had been the victor. People milled about, going from stall to stall browsing, buying food, and mingling with one another. The general atmosphere was one of relief and joy, and it immediately made Ingrid feel a bit more at ease. The war was, in fact, over.

Dorothea smiled, letting herself fall into the celebratory mood like it was easier than anything. She beamed at Ingrid, who returned the smile. 

“Where to first, sweetheart?” Ingrid’s face felt hot again. It was funny how easily her brain melted whenever Dorothea showed her even the smallest amount of affection.  
  


“Come this way. Dinner first, then we can walk around a bit, okay? I got us a reservation.” Ingrid grabbed Dorothea’s hand, walking side-by-side with her down the streets of the town. Eventually, they got to a restaurant, which Ingrid pushed the door open to and stepped inside. Immediately they were attended by a waiter who seemed to be running himself ragged. To be fair, the restaurant was quite full.

“My apologies, but if you don’t have a reservation, it would be at least an hour until we’re able to seat you.” Ingrid nodded at him, giving him a polite smile.  
  


“I actually do have a reservation, under Ingrid. For the balcony?” The man flipped open a book, skimming names until his finger came to rest unmistakably on Ingrid’s name, written there in ink.

“Ah, perfect! Come right this way, ladies.” He scoops up two menus, leading the pair up the stairs and out onto the balcony. It’s empty, save for a table set for two. A pair of candles sits in the center of it, already lit. Ingrid was pulling out all the stops for this. 

The view from the balcony was lovely as well, close enough that they could see the celebrations, but far enough away from the rowdiness that they had a small amount of privacy. Dorothea took her seat, and Ingrid did the same, smiling at her from across the table. The waiter poured them both glasses of water and left to get their food. As soon he was gone, Dorothea reached across the table to take Ingrid’s hand. Their eyes met, and the fondness that Ingrid saw in her eyes warmed her to her core. Come what may, she had this moment, and every moment they’d had since then. 

“Ingrid this is… lovely, honestly. How did you arrange for all this?” Ingrid chuckled a little nervously, scratching the back of her head. 

“Well, I had been flying around on that first night that I was released, after I… well, ran from you. It always puts me at ease when I can feel the wind whipping through my hair and look at the surroundings, even shrouded in night. I’d seen torchlight coming from this town, and it made me curious, so I descended to see what was going on. I found out they were holding a celebration for the rest of the week, and thought it might be fun to go with you. Granted, you, ah- weren’t exactly pleased with me at the time, so I wasn’t sure, but I held the thought in the back of my mind, and then… Then I asked you to dinner, and I thought, this is the perfect place for our date. I came back yesterday and found the nicest restaurant I could and put in a reservation. I didn’t know what you really liked, and this one had the widest variety, and a lot of local delicacies, so I was all, ‘oh, perfect,’ and…”

Dorothea leaned on one hand, watching Ingrid as she spoke. The smile on her face hadn’t left since they’d arrived, and it seemed like she was genuinely having a good time. Ingrid felt a bit like a fool, talking so much, but Dorothea didn’t seem to mind. 

“It’s very sweet of you to take me someplace so nice. I grew up in Enbarr, so I’ve been to my fair share of festivals, but this is… fun in a way that they never were. It’s just people being happy that they’re here together, even after so much hardship. It’s really nice to see that this whole thing wasn’t for nothing, you know? If people are still alive to celebrate, to sing, to love…” her voice caught a little, but she kept speaking. “Then it was worth it. At least, I’ll keep telling myself that.” 

Ingrid nodded. She felt like this maybe wasn’t the safest topic, but spoke up anyways.  
  


“That’s what I value about being a knight, you know. Being able to use my strength to protect the people that allow for all this good to happen.” 

Dorothea gave her a nod in return, and the waiter returned, placing platters in front of them both. They were stacked with all sorts of delicacies, and there was a dessert tray, as well. She remembered that Dorothea was fond of desserts like peach sorbet, so she’d arranged for desserts like this. 

The pair spent the dinner talking and enjoying each others’ company in between bites. Dorothea teased her for eating so fast, and the notion was so very familiar that it made Ingrid feel feather-light. They talked about anything and everything, and it nearly felt like Ingrid had never left. There was something different, certainly, but Dorothea was still the girl she’d loved, all those years ago. She was more mature, a little more sure of herself, and a touch more reserved, but she was still Dorothea. That was all that mattered. 

They finished dinner and sampled just about every dessert the restaurant had to offer before they ended up leaving. After that, they strolled through the streets, hand in hand, enjoying the sights and smells and sounds well after the sun had set. The local crafts were well made, and as they walked, something caught Ingrid’s eye. 

She didn’t stray too far from Dorothea, but walked to the stall in question. It was a jeweler’s stall, each accessory lovingly crafted by hand. The quality was impeccable, as far as Ingrid could tell. The eye catching piece in question was a bracelet. The size was adjustable, and it was made from a beautiful polished gold. It was set with several small green gems, all along the band, but the clasp was what had caught Ingrid’s eye. It was wing-shaped, intricately carved and of high quality. She pointed to it, looking up at the shopkeep, an older woman with long, red hair in a braid. 

“How much for this bracelet?” The shopkeep gave her a look, glancing over to Dorothea, who was currently having a particularly animated conversation with one of the musicians on the street. 

“Normally, two-thousand. For you, one-thousand six-hundred.” Ingrid nods, pulling out the assorted coins and setting them on the counter before taking the bracelet. The shopkeeper smiles at her, giving her a small wink. “I hope your girlfriend likes it.” 

Ingrid splutters, only just barely managing to mutter her thanks before retreating. Goddess, she really was that transparent, wasn’t she? It wasn’t as though she was _trying_ to hide that she loved Dorothea, but still.

Ingrid slipped the bracelet into her pocket, and returned to Dorothea’s side. She lightly bumped shoulders with her to let her know she was there. 

“Hey, Dorothea. We should start heading back before it gets too late. It’s probably past the ninth bell by now.” Dorothea’s hand finds Ingrid’s lower back, and suddenly she can’t think anymore. She very vaguely registers Dorothea saying goodbye to the person she was talking to and then leading her back where they had left the pegasus. 

When they got there, Ingrid undid the stake in the ground and untied the rope, tossing them back in the saddlebag. She climbed onto the pegasus, behind Dorothea, like they had done before, but this time she seemed more comfortable, leaning back into Ingrid. She couldn’t help the flush across her face as she snapped the reins and they took off again.

“Hey.” Dorothea said, as soon as they were at a reasonably comfortable height. “Thank you for taking me out tonight. I had a really fun time with you.” She turned her head at a slightly awkward angle to look back at Ingrid.

“Careful.” Ingrid murmured, holding her a little tighter. The last thing she wanted was her date falling off a pegasus. “I had a really nice time tonight, too. Thank you for letting me take you to dinner.” She paused. And then impulse struck her like lightning and she pressed her lips to Dorothea’s shoulder. Dorothea didn’t say anything about it, but she didn’t lean away, either.

When they made it back to Garreg Mach, Dorothea walked with her to return the pegasus to the stables. When she’d made sure he wasn’t going to get out in the middle of the night and had given him some hay, she walked back out of the stables to see Dorothea looking up at the moon. 

Her eyes glimmered, bright and longing, and she looked… happy. Her hair hung down her shoulders in waves, reflecting the dim light in such a way that Ingrid swore that she was shining. Dorothea brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and Ingrid could feel her chest fill with warmth at the sight of her. She was… ethereal, and Ingrid could hardly believe she was even allowed to look at her. Before long, Dorothea caught her staring, and Ingrid quickly flicked her eyes away, embarrassed. Dorothea giggled, and it prompted Ingrid to walk up to her, sticking her hand in her pocket to feel for the bracelet she’d gotten.  
  


“I, um. I wanted to show you that I… that you’re important to me. And I’ve done that by taking you out for a nice evening, sure, but more than that, I want… I…” Why was this so hard? Why were feelings so difficult to explain? Dorothea smiled patiently at her. “I want you to have this.” She pulled the bracelet out, gently slipping it onto Dorothea’s wrist and clasping it shut. “I hope you like it, and… and that it makes you think of me. I… I don’t know where my future is going to take me, but I want you to remember me. I’m sorry if that’s selfish.”

Dorothea’s breath caught in her throat as she admired the bracelet. She held it up to the moonlight, twisting it this way and that. She ran a thumb over the wing clasp, relishing the feeling of it against her fingertip.

“Ingrid… it’s beautiful.” She met Ingrid’s eyes, and the joy there was genuine. Dorothea put a hand on Ingrid’s cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. “Thank you.”

And then Dorothea leaned down and kissed her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on the sensation, and on kissing her back. It was tentative at first, as though Dorothea was testing the waters, but she settled into it quickly. Her hand slipped from Ingrid’s cheek to the back of her head, and her other hand settled on her hip. Ingrid found Dorothea’s lower back almost on instinct, pulling her closer. Dorothea deepened the kiss, tentatively sliding her tongue against Ingrid’s bottom lip. She was more than happy to give her access, hell, she’d give Dorothea anything she wanted right now. 

Ingrid wasn’t sure how, but she found herself with her back up against a wall, Dorothea’s hands tugging lightly at her hair. She suppressed a whine at the sensation, and Dorothea chuckled, kissing across her cheek to Ingrid’s ear. 

“I missed you.”

She nipped lightly at Ingrid’s earlobe, and Ingrid bit her lip so as not to make any late-night patrols wonder what the hell was going on. Dorothea seemed to have had her fun though, and she leaned back, hands still lingering on Ingrid.

“It’s late. I think it’s best if we both go to sleep.” Ingrid barely had the ability to think, but she nodded, and Dorothea smiled and pressed one last quick kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome.” And she walked away, leaving Ingrid dazed and warm as she walked back to her room.

Goddess, she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.


End file.
